


Confessional

by LazBriar



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cock Worship, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hazbin Hotel - Freeform, Oral, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal, We're breaking all the rules, commission, oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 19:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazBriar/pseuds/LazBriar
Summary: Mimzy makes a prayer in hopes she'll be answered.
Relationships: Alastor/Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy it's commission time again! The same person who commissioned "Disloyalty" also nabbed me for this one, so, here we go. Mimzy and Alastor having "words," boy oh boy. Not my usual pair and uh, yeah, we're really breaking canon but, smut is smut, as they say (nobody says this).
> 
> Enjoy!

**Confessional**

A monastery is the last thing you expect in Hell.

Well, all right, it’s not a _true _monastery. One doesn’t attend service in a traditional way – if at all. Oh, demons and sinners arrive to pray but certainly not for forgiveness or to seek penance. No, rather, the temples are used as a place of indulgence, or so it’s believed. After all, someone’s got to be listening, right?

That’s what Mimzy hoped for. Or technically, what she _prayed _for. Down Below was a pretty big place, if one sugarcoated it. Vast and expansive as all Hell and beyond the borders of Pentagram City there was even more out there. How far it went, how far the underworld sprawled on, was hard to say. But despite its size and vast population of sinners looming around every corner, it was easy to feel lonely down here. _Real _lonely.

Oh sure, Mimzy had admirers and fans of her shows. She put on a real bangarang performance at the _Otzenburg, _all dazzling and whatnot. Can-cans really put some of the watchers on edge. And yes, friends too, she had those. But what she didn’t have was a companion, and because she didn’t have a companion, she lacked _satisfaction. _A sinner had needs and hers weren’t being met. At all.

So, she was going to the extremes, or at least by the standards of Pentagram City. Praying in a “monastery” was the farthest thing from demon one could get, but, she always considered herself a sinner. And sinners _always _looked good.

She entered the building, dressed in something a bit more prudent, wide brim hat hiding her features. Couldn’t be a sight for the paparazzi, could she? Not that it mattered. The building was sparse and empty. Not even attended, as it were.

It was a strange place, the buildings “simulating” churches in Hell, because they were farthest thing from it. The buildings were affixed with long onyx pillars and barbed metal worn with bright pink and red neon, while on each had glamorous pentagrams met with signs that said “SINNERS WELCOME.” Of course, within, there were no symbols of “The Enemy.” The armor of an Exterminator was propped somewhere, covered in graffiti and ill remarks and other. . . things. This was a place of indulgence rather than holy, perversified to every extent.

Still, it was Mimzy’s last hope for what she had in mind. Kind of a silly thing, really. Who prays to have their answers met in Hell? Shouldn’t one just go out and take it? Hah. That wasn’t her style. She was a giver, an _entertainer. _

She sauntered pass the empty complex of barren pews, towards the fixture at the end of the “temple.” Statues were different and various. There were figures here Mimzy didn’t recognize, some of established power dating back who knew when. But of course, above them all, watchful and ever commanding even when not here, was an image of the Emperor of Hell: Lucifer. Now here was a man Mimzy wasn’t fooled by, not one bit. Oh he wore a Cheshire grin, kept himself in dapper attire, even had a daughter. But that was _Him. _She wasn’t fooled by the persona, much like. . .

Well, Alastor.

Ahh, Alastor. Went by many names that one, he did. What were the favorites these days? Deer Demon? Wendigo? Radio Demon? Scarlet Sinner? Ah, well no, that one was _hers. _And there were a few others, like ‘darling’ and friend and. . . hmm. Lover?

No, unfortunately.

Mimzy knew the grinning fellow for many years, over a decade at least. He was a riot, he was, a sneering jester that delighted in the agitation of his foes (and allies). He loved music and his hard Louisiana reserve and “eating.” A devil in the eyes of so many. _Especially _Mimzy, but in a different kind of way. A _very _different way.

She sighed. Friends in hell were hard to come by, and because of this, again, it was so easy to feel alone and isolated, wonder if anyone Down Here really cared. She wanted more, and she wanted more. . . _from Alastor. _Oh, how could she not? He was so indifferent to the machinations of the Underworld. Within him was an arsenal of ancient magics and feral demonic power that took many centuries to acquire, and yet, he had all the swagger of a dapper gentleman with a fetish for humor. Well, humor that came at the expense and suffering of his enemies, but humor all the same.

Qualities like those you wouldn’t expect to find attractive considering the stock supply of demons and Sinners lingering, but to her? Oh, Mimzy couldn’t help herself. Alastor always knew what to say or how to turn a situation into an amusing one. Whether it meant making a crass joke to frustrate a joe or viciously maim them, he was always smiling. She heard rumor he _couldn’t _do anything but, she liked to think it was because he never let the city bother him. If he did, he never showed it.

But therein lied the problem. He was aloof and charming and sadistic but, how did one get past the façade? So far as she could tell, Alastor was her friend. She knew this for two reasons: one, she wasn’t dead, and two, he seemed to “brighten” in her company. It was a nuanced difference, Alastor put on airs and had a way of navigating conversations that bordered on constant sarcasm, and yet, with her, there was at least _something _genuine.

Oh no, not the “crying on her shoulder” kind of thing, the Radio Demon was _all _about appearances, and there wasn’t a second he dropped his. So, it wasn’t like he confided in her deep, emotional secrets. But he was always nice, and comforting in his own crazy sort of way. He joked, but never joked at _her _expense. He gently hinted at his violence and charades, but never _towards _her.

She so wished she could be more. And that was why she was here. The “Hail Mary,” if she allowed herself a bit of an oxymoron. Praying. Taking a final shot in hopes that perhaps an incantation might bring Alastor _closer. _He did like prayers and all, right? So what if it was rooted in Voodoo charms and spellwork she wasn’t familiar with, tomato-potato.

Mimzy approached and knelt the altar at the chapel’s foundation, overseen by the glory of Him. Emperor of Hell and founder of Pentagram City, Lucifer. And everything else. Regardless of what opinion a sinner held about Him, it was He that commanded the fates of all. Mimzy knew that, secretly, always figured the anarchy among the City was by his lackadaisical design. And, with such power, maybe _He _had enough force to sway the wiley heart of the Wendigo man.

She knelt before the grand statue, one which was _not _built in his familiar, suited form, but rather something primordial. Closer to well, whoever He was before the city. In respect, Mimzy prostrated herself before it and clasped her hands together. Had to be the same way as Above, right?

The shortstack sinner contemplated her words, careful. This was a place of prayer _and _tricks. Devil knew Lucifer liked his tricks and deals, just like Alastor.

“Oh, benevolent lord,” she started, voice calm and low. “I beseech you this night, a lonely soul calling out, a sinner lost in the City. Almighty Master, I pray to you, to hear this poor, pitiful wretch’s plea. . .”

Hmm, okay good so far. Maybe a little thick though. She huffed.

“Agh, I’m no good with this.”

She turned her eyes up, staring at the silent statue. “Okay, listen sugar. I’ll keep it simple. I’m lonely. It’s the worst, doll, the _worst. _I’ve been here for _decades _and I can’t take it anymore. I need someone in my life! And not just anyone, Alastor baby! That swing-king grinning madman! Makes a girl feel a flush, you understand?”

Of course, the mold said nothing in reply, Mimzy’s voice echoing around the throat of the church.

“Please, Lord, I beg of you. I don’t have much to offer but, dammit, this girl needs love too! Find it your almighty Heart to. . . I don’t know! Give me some time with him! A night! An afternoon! Anything!”

Silence. Mimzy blinked, the hard floor aching her knees. Did that work? Was anything going to happen? It didn’t seem that way. There was no grand spectacle of energy or crackle of scarlet, no descending form of Lucifer to say “wish granted” or something equally as corny. Well, that was all it was, a wish, in _Hell. _She was being awfully silly, wasn’t she?

She remained this way a while, kneeling, hoping. When no response came, Mimzy heaved a long, tired sigh, wobbling to feet. She straightened her dress and prepared to leave. Worth a shot.

Footsteps.

“_Anything?”_

Mimzy spun, eyes boggling, heart going aflame. No, it couldn’t be. Was it. . . _was it!?_

“My dear Mimzy, why, never took you for a spiritual gal! I’d have a figured you hocked that business out with the crucifix, ohohoho!”

No, Mimzy wasn’t losing her mind though the voices in her head seemed to disagree. There, coalescing from the shadows, taking careful strides towards here was the Radio Demon, bearing his Cheshire grin. Though he was different this time around.

“Alastor!” Mimzy shrieked, a mix of fear and delight. Oh Lucy she didn’t hear this, did she!? How embarrassing!

“The one and only!” he said, swinging an arm, notably absent of his radio staff. “Whimsy Mimzy, of all the dives I find you in, this isn’t the one I expected, ohoho.”

She flushed. “Er, Alastor, I um, well, you know. . .”

He raised a clawed hand, stepping closer. He was. . . not in his scarlet suit. No, instead, he’d taken to wearing a mock garb, like a priest, a gown of deep black save he bore no traditional symbols. But. . . why? Mimzy felt herself grow hot again, but in a _different _way. Man could really pull off a look, couldn’t he?

“I certainly _do,” _continued the Radio Demon, hands behind back. He swaggered past her, squinting at the statue and letting his sneer grow a bit more.

“Why, I heard your lonely songbird’s melody from over yonder, and I was touched I say, _touched!” _he said, throwing a hand over his forehead in feigned anguish.

“A friend in need and the other comes a knocking, you know?” he went on, turning to lean at the shorter girl. “After all, the nature of your beckoning I find very _interesting.”_

She fluttered her eyes. “Y-you do?”

“Oh of _course,” _he said, placing a slender hand on her shoulder. “You should well know I’m a waterfall of empathy, my dear.”

The hand shifted as he slid a digit under her chin, raising it to face him. Another wave of heat spiraled through her as she stared into those radiating, blood scarlet eyes, full of mischief and darkness and _suggestion. _

“And who would I be to turn away my ear to a lonely soul looking to _confess. _Why, you’re in a holy place, my whimsical chum, surely you came to atone for your sins.”

Mimzy attempted to wave it off with a cough and a laugh. “C-confess? Why, what ever do you mean, d-dollface, ahah. . .”

Alastor threw his head back with a cackle. “Dollface? Why my dear, you’ve haven’t slung that slang in an age, certainly not for the likes of ol’ me. Why, I distinctly recall you savored it for your _suitors, _no?”

Mimzy’s face flushed, hot and red. Was it possible for Alastor grin any wider? He certain did, his razor canines looking _extra _sharp.

“You know what they say, an honest face makes the morning.”

Dammit. Mimzy tried to force the words out, get it through. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? All this time, all this hoping and pleading and praying. The man was _right _there, like the vison he always was, dapper and teasing, his charming static-laced tones drawing her close like a siren’s call. So why the _hell _couldn’t she just say it, let the feelings spill free?

“I see we’re having trouble. . .”

Then, his hand slid to her shoulder, gripping with a soft but astonishing level of force, one that sent shivers through Mimzy. Welcome ones.

“In times of the Inquisition, often the clerics would _force _a confession. Perhaps a similar method is needed?”

Like a shark to prey Alastor wheeled on her. He wiggled his digits together, the spare nudging Mimzy backward with a soft but astonishingly powerful nudge, a gentle nuance of his power. She nearly tripped, but shadows coalesced and caught her from behind, though pressed quite firmly into the pew.

A dapple of sweat coated Mimzy’s brow, glancing around, up to the looming Alastor. He cast his gaze at her with smug satisfaction, his scarlet eyes quivering with echoes of his power.

“Alastor, w-what. . .”

A finger came to his lips, the crackle of a radio audience laughing behind him. “Now, now whimsy Mimzy, save your breath. I think you’ll be needing _every last drop of it.”_

He snapped his fingers, a cackling shadow entity appearing at Mimzy’s side, letting a hand slip forward and pull up her skirt. At once, she flushed, the sight of her supple hips spilling into sight. A black strip of lace was all that guarded her against the ploys of Alastor, not that she had any true intention of _resisting. _

“Of course, I’m no man of the cloth, not truly,” he said with a wink, taking a step forward. “I’d like to think myself of an improvateur, though, so I’ll get my confession, ohoho. You prayed, after all.”

He took a step forward, leaning just so, a digit diving to rub across the silky barrier between he and Mimzy’s nether snatch. She gasped, not so much at the sensation but from the sheer _disbelief. _Was this really happening? Oh, Lucifer below, it was like a dream. But far better, it was _real. _Alastor pressed hard, the knuckle of his finger tracing along the hidden dimensions of her lower lips, until racing against her nub. A shockwave of hot electricity radiated through her loins. She sucked a breath, head thrown back, clasping the pew while Alastor offered an amused chuckle.

She clenched the sides of the wood, shaking. Breaths escaped her, a wellspring of arousal erupting through her legs. Even at the _touch _it was too much, Alastor rolling his fingers across the silk, applying enough pressure than he _pushed _into her dribbling folds. Mimzy squealed again, dewy arousal soaking her panties, nibbling her lip as she squirmed, although Alastor’s shadowy familiar kept her in place.

“Those don’t quite sound like the words I’d expect from the guilty,” he chided, lifting his fingers as they dribbled with his deeds.

“Little more ‘ooh’ and ‘aah,” he went on, head tilting in semi-mock fashion. “Come now Mimzy, sing like the songbird I know you are. Confess! You can’t hide those little sins from me.”

Again, Mimzy sucked in a breath, her lace notably sodden. She wasn’t _trying _to go mums-the-word but when the man of her literal dreams was doing, well, _this. . ._

“N-not exactly a small time s-sinner,” she said with a measure of challenge. Alastor laughed.

“Hoho, that’s the spirit. Always up for a good time, aren’t we?”

He licked his teeth, sending a frightened yet utterly aroused shiver through Mimzy.

“You know I don’t often dabble in matters of meat this way, oho. I find the other ways more captivating. But, goodness, you’re a guilty little bird, aren’t you? And I just _love _the sight of you squirming!”

Mimzy didn’t know what to make of that. It excited her, the unknowns to it. What was he gonna’ do? Heavens, she was at his mercy, how _dreadful. _Well, he liked his games, and she was overwhelmed with his attention. If she didn’t play along, what else might he do?

“I w-won’t. . .” said Mimzy, batting her wide eyes.

Another hard laugh. “Oho, Mimzy my dear, I was hoping you’d say that.”

Alastor snapped his fingers and the shadow familiar grinned a single line of jagged red, promptly gripping Mimzy’s panties and yanking them down. She cooed as her nethers were exposed to the chapel air, her warm cleft glistening in the faded lights of the monastery. The familiar continued pulling until they cuffed her by the ankles, improvised shackles as it were, while Mimzy glanced towards the entrance.

“W-what if someone. . .”

Alastor tilted his head. “Intrudes? I wouldn’t worry my dear, for this is a solo act tonight!”

Mimzy had to admit – not _aloud, _of course – someone happening upon them both was a thrilling concept. The danger and, oh, to see the shock on their faces, as if to say “why yes, this _is _the Radio Demon, now scoot.” The scenario in her mind vanished however as a new sensation consumed her.

“Nnnah!”

Mimzy shrieked, gasping, looking to her loins. Lo, “Father” Alastor had gone to knee, his mouth placed against her cleft. One powerful hand gripped her thigh, squeezing the supple flesh while his tongue leapt and travelled along her outer slit, in tease. Mimzy was shocked, to put it mildly. Never did she think her prayers would be answered in this fashion. Well, answered they were, and the shorstack wriggled with back to altar, her head thrown in an arch as Alastor’s mischievous tongue slid across her moist mouth.

His other hand slipped forward, promptly spreading her outer lips, maintaining his sneer as he worked her over with licks and laps. Like a tendril his tongue wove into her, sampling her flavor as he prodded further reaction from the gal. Mimzy heaved, hot breaths rushing from her lips as she offered long, dull moans to accompany Alastor’s sexual ministrations.

Alastor pressed his maw forward, diving tongue into her slit, sampling the flavor of her tunnel, even suckling on her sensitive, tender clitoral nub. It sent a shockwave of intense, nerve-y pleasure spiraling through her frame, shivering at each tongue-touch.

“Ohhhnf. . . L-Lucifer below!” she mewled, a hand coming to her perky chest, massaging the sensitive mantle with attentive squeezes.

Alastor broke his fixation, quirking a brow. “Lucifer? Ahaha, the wrong deity in this department, methinks,” he said.

“Though your incantations for a higher power are on the mark,” he continued. “Still, not the confession I was looking for, dear canary!”

He chuckled. “Suppose my techniques need a little work. Oh, I’m rusty, you understand, forgive a gent. Don’t mind if I experiment, do you?”

Mimzy didn’t understand, and it excited her. What could _that _possibly mean?

“Still won’t confess, little bird? Tell ol’ Alastor what these little feelings of yours are about?”

He pressed his mouth forward again, with a controlled, authoritative motion, promptly wrapping his maw around her nub and suckling. His tongue, once again, drove into her tunnel, dancing in careful, deliberate motions to tease and toy with every bit of Mimzy’s sensitive nether region. He found all the _right _spots as though he’d known them all along, the shadowy familiar snickering as he worked, suckling sounds echoing from their coupling.

Sharp, electric waves of intense sensations rolled through Mimzy’s frame, and it took every ounce of concentrations he had not to buckle over and _lose it, _here and now. No, not yet, things were just getting good!

Alastor noted this too, withdrawing his tongue, savoring his counterpart’s flavor though she were a ripe morsel.

“Ahh, can’t have you spilling your secrets like that,” he said with a finger wag. “I haven’t employed all the techniques at my disposal, my dear, ohohoh!”

Now his fingers came to her outer lips, and with commanding force spread her wide, revealing her pink mons which dribbled with both arousal and expectation. Mimzy gasped again from both shock and ecstasy, so utterly helpless before the Radio Demon (not that she minded). She dared to question what he might do next, but was answered with a motion. Said digits pushed forward and dove into her suckling tunnel, a sloppy chorus following after.

He started with a pair, driving his fingers into the tight cleft in slow, method strokes, Alastor’s free hand planted firmly on Mimzy’s hip. Each roll of digits forced a shiver of groans from her, a hot, intensifying wave of sensation growing with each push of fingers. Mimzy could spare no words, save briefly glance as the intruding fingers of the Radio Demon rolled in practiced swings. It was driving her mad, making her dizzy with heat and lust! She couldn’t help but sing with moans, so loud she had to cover her mouth.

“Ah, still no confession? What a shame.”

How could she? At once the motions met their crescendo, forced the peak Alastor “worked” for. His digits rushed now, a third entering the fray as he pumped the trio into Mimzy with unrepentant speed, the shortstack wriggling and arching while the Radio Demon drove his digits into her again and again.

“A-ahhhh!” she squealed, her tunnel trembling and gushing with nectar, spurts of translucent _her _spilling free in messy dollops while the Radio Demon worked through her peak. He even teased and rubbed against her nub with digits, Mimzy responding with shrill cries as the sensation was overwhelming.

Alastor pulled his digits free as Mimzy spilled onto the pew, frame dappled with sweat as her face went red hot, nectar dribbling from her snatch. It leaked in timid rivers, pooling on the ground.

“Hah, I’ve heard of baptisms, but this is ridiculous!” Alastor laughed, wiggling the essence between his clawed fingers. He eyed the issue with intrigue, looking down at the flustered Mimzy with those same, vigorous eyes, wide grin never fading.

“You know, without a confession, there is the matter of _penance _to consider,” he continued, straightening. “Some do this by worshipping at the altar, ahaha. Who are we to break tradition, little songbird?”

It took a while for Mimzy to collect herself. Her head was spinning – in a good way. Did. . . she just get fingered by the object of her dreams, the man she pined after for what felt like an eternity? The mess at her loins indicated this was so. She flushed again. She was so. . . exposed to him. But then again, she _liked _it, she wanted Alastor to take her, perhaps own her, even. He always got what he wanted.

A moment, and Mimzy was able to collect herself, if by collect one meant “wobble upward and stare at the mess of _themselves.” _ She glanced to the taller demon, putting on her best “I’m guilty” look, tempted to push this more. What did he mean, anyway?

“I won’t,” she said, resisting. Or, rather, playing along. The fun was getting good, why stop now. “You can’t make me confess, dollface.

Again, Alastor cackled. “Oh, Mimzy, to see a spirited sinner like yourself give it your all, it’s so _entertaining.”_

He twirled, hands outstretched. “But I’m afraid you’re not off the hook. What’s a sin without its atonement, no?”

Alastor shifted, striding towards a corner of the chapel, where the graffiti-laden stonework gave way to a long, rectangular window. Through said window a blade of moonlight slipped through, the strange reddish hues washing the masonry in faded crimson. Mimzy watched, curious, the shadow familiar pushing her to feet.

Alastor, in the meantime, found a cozy sitting and perched himself upon it, expectant. He let his gaze roll to Mimzy, head tilting, legs spreading just so. It didn’t take words to figure out what he was getting at.

She stood with the help of the familiar, wiggling her fingers. Again, the Radio Demon kept his gaze to her, a gesture with finger.

“Serve at the altar, as they might say. Just tonight, you’ve traded icons, ahahaha!”

Oh _Lucifer. _Mimzy’s eyes went wide, trailing towards Alastor’s crotch. Her body felt itself swept in a wave of new heat. Ah, she couldn’t resist, not this. She assumed Alastor might toy with her longer, make her _really _squirm, but it appeared he had other plans. Mimzy’s heart flipped. She’d waited so long for a moment like this, licking soft lips.

“Must I?” she said in faux hesitation. Alastor kept his grin.

“Who are you to deny the whims of the lord?”

She giggled internally. Who indeed. She stripped off her dress then, no real need for it now. Prudence was long gone, her supple, greyish skin catching the sleeves of light banking through the chapel windows.

“Then. . . I guess I have no choice,” she said, striding forward, her perky front tossing in gentle bounces with her movements. Alastor watched with continued amusement until the sodden Mimzy came to his knees, before slipping to her own. The stone was harsh and unforgiving, but, she could manage. She wouldn’t give up an opportunity like this just because of a little discomfort.

“Oh, you have a choice,” Alastor chided. “A choice to how to serve best, ohah!”

Well, she had ideas. A craving filled her, deep and raw, something intermixed with the desire to submit, the other to simply _take _Alastor. He was letting her get so far, teasing her, constantly pushing her buttons. What he’d done previous was only an appetizer.

With trembling, excited motions, her hand shot forward and went to his waist, unfastening the fabric, palm racing over the dimensions of his hidden shaft. Briefly, she hesitated when her fingers slid upon it, feeling the hardness form between digits. She glanced up, seeking approval, but Alastor did nothing to stop her. No doubt this amused him too, perhaps like the entire prospect.

“Nmf. . .”

So, she retrieved his flesh, a soft yet thick girth of greyish inches. She shuddered, finally seeing the root, Alastor’s, well, _him. _After all this time and waiting – not just _now – _but for years, decades. Decades of holding back this feeling, of doting and wanting, only to have it refuted in his own friendly sort of way, though that stung all the same. Considering Alastor’s occupation, he never seemed interested in affairs so sordid.

She took the mast in both hands, applying a sweep of gentle but firm strokes. At once it hardened at her touches, waves of heat filling the pike as she twisted her grip against the prick, getting it to full mast. It twitched in her hand, practically pulsed, and Mimzy felt one thing: _want. _Alastor tilted his head, enjoying himself, though if he gave any indication of _just _how much, well, he hid that behind his grin, as usual.

She pursed her lips, pressing the tip against her smooth mouth, savoring it, much like he did with her nethers. Once more, Mimzy glanced up to see Alastor staring back, and though he said nothing, “go on” was as plain as the Pentagram Moon.

Her tongue rolled free and lapped at the tip, but, she couldn’t contain herself long. Normally she might take a long time with it, relish every second, but, her body was wanting in other ways. For now, Mimzy grasped “Father” Alastor’s knees and pressed her maw against his flesh before engulfing the inches into her small throat. A loud, slurping sound accompanied her motions as her head dipped to the base of his pike, a dribble of saliva pouring down her chin. With long, slow motions she wobbled her head against it, soft might tightly wrapped about the inches in submissive display. She mumbled as she worked, a muffled groan escaping her as she serviced the “holy man,” eager to perform her penance.

Alastor’s familiar cackled as she rolled her head in smooth, gulping motions, pausing to cough as hot breaths left her mouth. She stared at the twitching, hard length, still in disbelief this was _actually _Alastor, but who was she to deny fate? His masculine flavor filled her mouth, tight grip coaxing and dragging against the demanding root. Each motion forced a low, muffled moan from her, fingers diving to her slit to massage the nether region.

“Slllmff. . .”

Alastor’s tufts wiggled, head tilting. “Sorry songbird, didn’t quite catch that.”

She popped him free, huffing in quick breaths, presex dribbling from her lips. “Perhaps your atonement just isn’t enough, eh?”

Not enough? Mimzy huffed, keeping her eyes locked to Alastor. Well, there was one _other _thing. Shivering, she stood now, only to shift positons and straddle the Radio Demon. He leaned back, eternally amused.

“I think you’re finally getting the picture,” he said as Mimzy glanced down, position her sodden cleft above his equally glistening tip. She didn’t respond, though not like she had any coherent words to spare. She turned, back to his chest

Rather, in one smooth, slick motion she sank upon the inches, giving a low groan as she fell to the hilt. A shockwave of electric sensations ran through her, a spike of intensity, causing her to wobble. Alastor, of course, gave no indication he felt the same, though slipped his palm against her curvy thigh, squeezing and massaging the generous flesh like he might with a flank of tasty meat.

Mimzy, in the meanwhile, rose and sank upon the solid inches with growing enthuse. Each toss of her hips sent a rippling jiggle through her fairly generous backside, her sodden cleft allowing for easy grinds. Each was smooth albeit sloppy, sending dewy drops of the pair’s coupling to the floor. Each toss of Mimzy’s body forced wailing, echoing moans from her, both from growing intensity of the radiating heat and the _knowledge _she was riding Alastor, to put it mildy.

“Mmf. . . well?” Alastor said, his voice smooth as bourbon, maintaining his controlling demeanor.

“A-Alastor!” Mimzy cried out, head dizzy. More, her thoughts demanded, more! She let one of her hands drift to supple chest, pinching and toying with one of her stiffened nips, mewling out as she rode Alastor. He kept her from losing balance (though admittedly might find such a sight comedic), holding her in place, his root buried deep within the earth that was his counterpart.

Mimzy continued, digits rolling across her nub to excite herself further. Screaming, wonderful nerve-y sensations consumed her loins, her snatch fit to burst once again. She pressed her back into the Radio Demon, haplessly humping and riding, each stroke stretching her inner walls perfectly, like the dimensions of his shaft were made for her. Or perhaps that was more of his shapeshifting tomfoolery?

Alastor joined her as well, his sharp clawed fingers pinching at her other nip in harsh twists and squeezes, making her gasp aloud. His ruthless free hand massaged nub in furtive, short sweeps, pushing her further and further into peak.

Finally, she could take no more.

“A-Alastor! I want you!” she cried out before her inner crescendo finally came to fruition. At once, a gush of her nectar oozed from her soaked nether region, pouring over Alastor’s stiff mast, drooling to the floor as she humped herself through another orgasm.

Slowly, her motions ceased until she was a panting, heaving mess, sweat dappling her frame as she nearly buckled over. Well, she did in fact, nearly falling from her “throne,” save Alastor snared an arm around her waist, holding her in place.

He chuckled. “Ahaha, there’s the confession, little bird. It took some doing, now didn’t it?”

Mimzy rattled off a few hoarse, but pleased breaths, uncertain what to think. She pulled herself free from Alastor’s shaft, beside herself. The buzz of an afterglow washed over her. Lucifer Below, it was out, wasn’t it? It took every ounce of strength not to blurt out “love,” no doubt the Deer Demon would find the concept nonsensical.

“I suppose it did,” she added, trying to retain a sense of composure. “W-what now?”

Alastor’s digit went to her chin, turning her to look at him. Again, there was his endless, crescent grin.

“What indeed?” he said, tone ominous.

He glanced to her clothes which still lie crumpled on the pew. “Pack your things, Mimzy, I think a night at a hostel might do you some good.”

Mimzy blinked. She didn’t know what that meant exactly, but. . .

“You’re coming with me?”

He tilted his head. “Why, however else would I see your penance through?”

The shortstack flushed. He wasn’t done then?

Suppose her prayers _had _been answered, but with Alastor. . . she couldn’t imagine what else he had in store for her.

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers Alastor makes everyone a puritan
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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